


Sever

by Sharcade



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Major Character Injury, Permanent Injury, Physical Disability, Psychological Trauma, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharcade/pseuds/Sharcade
Summary: Connor sustains damage.





	Sever

Connor's job was simple.

Investigate any given crime scene and locate any given suspects. He was good at it, he was made for it, and now that he was a deviant, he found he was even better at it. He could adapt, he could theorise, he could use  _creativity._ It definitely helped. While most of the cases he was left to solve were simple - robberies, break-ins - he would occasionally be assigned cases more serious. Cases more intense, cases more advanced.

"The suspect was likely high on some kind of narcotic at the time of the murder." Connor confirmed, looking over the body at his feet. "The frantic and erratic pattern of stab wounds indicate that it was likely some form of  _crack cocaine._ "

"Alright, that narrows down our list a little," Hank mused, looking around. "But we still don't know where this guy is."

"I suspect he may still be inside," Connor explained, keeping his voice hushed as he scanned over the room. "There's no evidence of any sort of escape. The probability of the suspect still being here is around 87%."

"Alright wise guy," Hank began, folding his arms and eyeing Connor with interest. "Find him then."

"I fully intend to."

Connor paced along, following in the suspect's own footsteps as he mentally pieced the crime scene together. In a cocaine-fuelled rage, the suspect had stabbed the victim with a kitchen knife. They had panicked and ran in the most open direction, the nearest hallway, and dropped the knife soon into the escape. They bumped into the wall, leaving a bloody smudge, before finally hiding in-

Connor blinked and paused, squinting at the closet door. He motioned for Hank to join him, resting a hand on his holster. Hank was by his side in an instant, gun drawn. Slowly, Connor placed a hand on the closet doorknob. The suspect was in here, he knew they were, so he just had to be fast. Taking a deep breath, he threw the door open, not even having a second to blink before the felt the searing shock of a switchblade being jammed into his shoulder. He gasped sharply as his hand faltered from his holster, the suspect pushing past him and booking it for the door.

"Fucking- Connor!"

Connor didn't pause for Hank's concern, he didn't have time to,  _he had to be fast._ Keeping his form steady, Connor bolted out of the apartment in full pursuit. If he could identify the suspect's face, it would be enough information to catch him. He hurried down the staircase, keeping his eyes firmly locked on the suspect, waiting for some sort of chance to identify him. His mind was only on two things: Identify the suspect and catch the suspect. 

He finally burst out onto the sidewalk, eyes frantically darting around. The suspect was gone. The curb was lined with parked cars, and Connor was quick to realize that the suspect had to have gotten into one of them. Pausing for a moment to internally curse self-driving cars for having completely blacked out windows, Connor took a step forward into the road, peering out into the street as he checked for any sign of the suspect. He took another step forward.

It had been quick and painless.

For a moment, Connor didn't know what had happened. His vision had been blasted with white, all of the breath leaving his body as blood was forced from his mouth, the metallic taste of his own thirium stinging his sensors. There had been a loud pop before everything had turned to ringing, disorientation plaguing him for a moment before everything seemed to catch up all at once.

 _Overwhelming agony,_ that's what it had been, and before he knew why, he was screaming. It hurt, it hurt  _so badly,_ he didn't know that he could experience the level of pain he was currently processing. Shakily, he looked down, paling with nausea at the sight below him. From the waist down, his body had been practically  _severed_ , the android wedged between the two cars he had been standing between moments ago. The suspect had crashed into him, he was stuck, his body had been  _crushed._

The world seemed to spin for a moment, Connor dropping to the ground as the car backed up and sped away, leaving him to bleed on the ground, spitting up blood as the sky above him spun rapidly. He could barely process what had just happened, his body trembling from shock and blood loss. He felt cold. It was boiling hot out.

"Con- Connor, holy shit!"

And then the sky went black.

When Connor's mind finally snapped back to reality, he felt numb. Completely numb. He felt immobile, overwhelmingly  _tired_ , he felt cold. Everything was dark, far too dark, something had to be wrong. His mouth tasted awful, his sensors flooding his mind with notifications that the substance he was analyzing was his own thirium. He couldn't help but gag slightly as he sat up straight, his entire body shuddering with pain as his mind quickly informed him that this was a wrong move.

"Woah, woah, okay, hold on, stay down."

Hank. Hank was there? Connor felt hands on his shoulders and suddenly he was flat on his back again, a quiet ringing still coursing through his ears. He didn't bother opening his eyes, his senses were already overwhelmed. His entire body felt  _shifted,_ something was wrong that he couldn't quite pin, something that was making him feel light and filling him with a thick dread all at the same time.

"You awake, kid?"

"Hank?" Connor mumbled quietly, rubbing his head.

"I'm here, I'm here."

Then, everything rushed back to him. Being smashed between two cars, his body falling in two separate pieces as he collapsed to the ground, everything swirling above him as agony ravaged his pathetic remains. Blood. He remembered blood, he remembered the thought that CyberLife couldn't repair him anymore, and he remembered being  _halved._ His breathing suddenly faltered, his hands trembling slightly as they began travelling down his side, prodding his skin as he anticipated with terror where it might end. He startled slightly as his wrists were grabbed, Hank pulling Connor's hands from his body and laying them carefully on his chest.

"Don't worry about that yet. Rest."

"D-Do I have legs?"

"Rest, Connor. Please."

He wondered if Hank knew what to do any more than he did.

* * *

"You want a coffee or something before I go?"

"I'm alright, Lieutenant."

"...Hey, can we talk for a bit?"

It had been exactly three weeks, four days, eight hours and thirteen minutes since Connor had lost his legs. He remembered it exactly. It wasn't something he  _wanted_ to remember, but he remembered it. It was the day he had officially become  _worthless._ He was built to hunt down deviants, to be a detective, and if he couldn't do that, then what was he good for at all? Nothing, and he had never been more aware of that than on the days when Hank would go into work, leaving him behind. He felt empty.

"About what?"

Hank shrugged quietly, sitting down next to Connor on the couch and sipping his coffee. The house had changed a bit since the accident. The floor was always clear, carpets were being torn up to make way for hardwood, doors were always kept ajar for ease of access. Connor was in a wheelchair. That was something Hank wasn't used to yet, and he was doing his best to keep the house updated accordingly. He wanted Connor to be comfortable. He wanted Connor to be happy. It was just a matter of actually accomplishing that. 

"About your legs, I guess."

Connor tensed up slightly, keeping his gaze down.

"What about them?"

"...Look, kid, I  _know_ this is rough." Hank mumbled, setting his coffee down. "You feel like hell, I get that, but you can't do this forever. You can't sit here every day and just zone out  _forever._ You're gonna have to bounce back."

"Bounce back to what?" Connor began after a moment's pause, his voice low and notably bitter. "Bounce back to police work? Bounce back to hunting down perpetrators?"

" _Yes._ " Hank insisted. "Yes, yes to all of that."

"And how exactly am I-"

"You don't fuckin' need legs to scan a crime scene, Connor." Hank interrupted pointedly, poking Connor's chest for emphasis. "You don't need legs to run a sample, or identify a face, or do any of that fancy mind shit you do. You don't need legs for any of that crap. How often do we actually end up chasing a bad guy?"

"Often enough."

"Then  _I_ can chase them."

"You would be more efficient with an able bodied partner." Connor stated, his voice distant and cold. "You would be more efficient with somebody else."

"Well I don't fuckin'  _want_ somebody else, Connor, I want my goddamn partner. Hell, I couldn't fuckin shake you if you were  _just a head._ "

"I don't want to slow you down, Lieutenant."

"Connor." Hank began, his firm tone catching the android's attention enough to make him look up and finally meet Hank's eyes. " _I don't give a fuck._ You're my partner. I don't care if you can't walk anymore. You're the best damn partner I've ever had and it's just... _shitty_ to watch you fuckin' rot away here on the couch with no hope. Come in to work with me today. Please."

_Please._

Hank wasn't one to use manners, and Connor had only heard him say please a few times in his almost two years of knowing the man. He couldn't help but think back on the last time Hank had said it;  _Rest, Connor. Please._ Hank hadn't wanted him to see the damage. Hank wanted to protect him from that. Hank wanted him to be happy. 

"... _Fine._ " Connor finally acquiesced, letting out a sigh. "I-It would be socially detrimental to go any longer without visiting the precinct anyway."

"Exactly."

Maybe he wasn't as worthless as he thought.

 


End file.
